Page 72 of The Painter and His Poet

“Well, is there anything else you’d like to add before we give you our advice?” Ben asks.

“No.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Are you sure?”

“That’s about it,” Dalton replies, doing that same shifty eye movement he always does when he’s hiding something. I momentarily think about pushing the subject, but I want to get back to Harlow, and I’ve already spent way too fucking long sitting here.

“Well then, mate, first I think you need to be honest,” Ben offers.

“Honest? Ihavebeen honest,” Dalton counters, looking about as uncomfortable as one person can get.

“That’s debatable,” I say, and Dalton glares at me.

“I mean be honest with Daisy about the whole Tomasz situation. I’m assuming she doesn’t know that you fired him fordoing his actual job,” Ben says pointedly.

“I don’t need to explain my reasonings, I’m the fucking manager, and he’s a member of my staff so that means I can do what the fuck I want,” he retorts, folding his arms across his chest defensively.

“That’s true, but if you want to try fixing your relationship with Daisy, so that you can at the very least be in a position to become friends given you’re about to spend a lot of time with her, then you need to start with being honest about what you’ve done,” I say.

“Not sure that’s a good fucking idea,” he grumbles.

“She’ll only find out for herself, and when she does, she’ll be pissed. Better it comes from you, don’t you think?” Ben points out reasonably.

Dalton nods. “Fine. I’ll tell her, but if she thinks I’m going to rehire him, she can think again.”

“That’s your prerogative,” I say with a shrug. “But can I make a suggestion?”

“Shoot,” he retorts, emptying his glass.

“Take her out to dinner. Do it right this time. Be honest about what you did, and for fuck sake, try to consider her feelings in all of this.”

“Not sure she considered my feelings when she kneed me in the bollocks the other day,” he cuts out.

“You and I both know you probably deserved it,” I counter, and Ben smothers another laugh.

“You’re both loving this, aren’t you?” Dalton fires back, glaring at us both.

“What’s that saying? If you can’t handle the heat, stay out of the fucking kitchen?” Ben suggests.

“Okay, so I take her out, be honest and try to smooth things over. Got it,” Dalton says, ignoring Ben altogether.

“And I’d suggest not trying to kiss her again if you want to keep your bollocks,” I add.

“Talking of kissing, how’s that going for you?” Dalton retorts, arching a brow as he throws heat my way.

“Yeah, how is Harlow?” Ben asks, flicking his gaze to his phone that’s resting on the table in front of him. “I’ve not heard a whisper from her since the wedding. Thought she might’ve texted me by now.”

“Why thefuckwould she text you? How does she even have your number any-fucking-way?” I retort, my hackles rising. He better not have made a pass at her. Best friend or not, I will deck him.

“I gave it to Harlow when we danced together the night of the wedding.”

“You did fucking what?!” I grind out, about ready to launch myself across the table.

Ben raises his hands, palms facing me as he says, “It wasn’t like that, dickhead, I’d never make a move on the woman you’re interested in. Jesus, who the fuck do you take me for, I’m not Dalton?”

“I resent that remark, dickwad,” Dalton grumbles.

“Look, I just figured she might need a friend,that’s all,” Ben adds, ignoring Dalton’s complaint.

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